SPN/RPF Fic: Kripked!!
Title: Kripked!!
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Kripked: (verb) to have events in fic or fanon validated by new canon, reflecting the frequency with which SPN canon confirms SPN fanon. Kripke, Misha, (very) mild J2 slash
Word Count: ~1600
Spoilers/Warnings: Crack, some mentions of wincest.
AN: Essentially, this is a 1600 word riff off the term Kripked that can best be summarized by the emoticon XD and the words “you’re silly.”
Disclaimer:
Kripked: (verb) to have events in fic or fanon validated by new canon, reflecting the frequency with which SPN canon confirms SPN fanon.
“In a certain subculture, my name is a verb,” mutters Eric.
Jensen looks at him askance. People have been doing that to Eric for years, so it doesn’t really bother him anymore.
“Have you been on livejournal again?” Jensen asks.
“No,” lies Eric. It’s just that the place is addictive. It’s like everyone there mistook crack for sugar and put it in their morning coffees. And some of them have these little icons that offer him their souls. Which, Eric never considered himself the kind of person who would ever be offered someone’s soul. So it’s pretty cool.
And does JJ Abrams have anyone offering him their soul?
No. He doesn’t fucking think so.
Gaiman has soul-offering icons though. But Eric gets that. He’d offer Gaiman his soul if it didn’t already belong to Joss.
Maybe, he thinks, he could offer Gaiman his soul plus some of the fangirls’ souls in exchange for writing an episode of Supernatural.
He files that thought away to examine more closely at a later date. A February episode by Gaiman would be perf-fucking-tastic.
Eric maybe got a little confused with what word he was going for there. But bottom line: Gaiman episode= total awesomesauce.
Anyway, Eric’s up in Vancouver for a few days for the start of the season. He always likes to be on set for the first episode of the season and the last couple, to help set the tone. And he’s been thinking about a few things. Thoughts which may or may not have been prompted by spending the plane ride up here reading fanfiction about how his show’s stars are fucking like bunnies.
And really, if the fans think Jared and Jensen are secretly fucking like bunnies, then they should actually see the two. Eric is honestly not sure if he’s ever seen two people more in love in his entire life. When they moved in together, he was sure he’d lost the when will they get together? bet to Carver, but when the writing staff actually turned up en masse to visit the place, it turned out not to be Jared and Jensen’s House of Big Gay Canadian Love, but Jared and Jensen’s Manly Texan House of Mutual Platonic Affection.
Still, as Carver pointed out (sourly, because he’d lost the bet), it was probably more their Vancouverian Love Shack of Unconsummated Pining.
He doesn’t say any of this aloud though (well, maybe the part about souls and JJ Abrams), and after a moment, Jensen moves away to go congratulate Jared on knocking a particular scene out of the park. And he did. He was great. He was totally tapping into the Essence of Sam, and Kripke tells him that, or close enough. He says something that sounds a little less nutzoid.
But Jared doesn’t hear him. Because Jared is staring deeply into Jensen’s eyes, one hand on Jensen’s arm, and laughing at something Jensen said.
Jensen, for his part, is smiling up at Jared like he just found out Jared was singlehandedly responsible for doublestuffed oreos, lazy Sunday mornings, and everything else that is good and pure and wonderful in this world.
Yeah, so Jensen and Jared- totally and completely gone for each other.
It’s kind of embarrassing, really, that they’re the only ones who don’t see it.
And now Jensen is moving out of their Vancouverian Love Shack of Unconsummated Pining. The pining, as far as Eric can tell, still unconsummated.
Which leaves Eric with quite the conundrum on his hands. He has two costars who are obviously deeply and stupidly in love with each other, who don’t realize it, and who are playing brothers on his TV series. He has a bet (now worth 726 dollars (American), a semi-nude picture of Sera, and all of Edlund’s baby teeth) which he can win if the J’s get together during the final season. And he has the final season.
He also has a kind and benevolent nature. Mostly. Sometimes. When he feels like it.
So, clearly, his only option is to play matchmaker.
It’s a great idea. No, it’s an awesome idea. Right up there with the plan to secure Neil Gaiman as a guest writer. This season is going to be epic. People are gonna write sonnets about it.
But he needs a plan.
He just wishes Kim were still around so they could plot together.
He does the next best thing and talks to Jim instead. Jim looks at him like Eric’s been drinking demon blood and says, “You do know they’re real people, right? You can’t just jerk them around like you do your characters.”
“So you won’t help me?” asks Eric.
Jim rubs his forehead. He looks pained. “No. And I’m not really Bobby. You can stop coming to me for advice.”
“I know,” scoffs Eric. And he doesn’t move. “Could you, uh, say it for me anyway?”
Jim sighs. “You idjut,” he grumbles.
Eric grins and moves on. He could ask Sera. He knows she’d be down, but he has a feeling her plan for getting Jensen and Jared together would involve writing an episode with a lot of alcohol and a Sam/Dean threesome. And then they’d have to get Misha’s wife on as an official threesome counselor and… it would just be awkward for everyone.
Come to think of it, he read a fanfic along those lines once. The Sam/Dean threesome lines, not the Misha’s wife lines. It was actually pretty good.
To be honest, he’s read a couple fanfics along those lines. But he can’t help that he has magnificently talented fans. Secretly, he wonders if Sera might be behind some of those fanfics. She’s the one who sent him the url to livejournal in the first place. omg eric, look at this place!
But he’s never asked, and he never, ever will. There are some things that should just remain secret.
Still, he needs a partner. A Sundance to his Butch. A Patroclus to his Achilles. A Sam to his Dean.
He also needs to come up with some less gay metaphors. Then again, considering the nature of his mission, maybe not.
He decides he wants a partner who will be on set, to manage things from up close while Eric’s down in LA. That means all the writers are out, not just Sera.
He decides to talk to Misha.
Misha’s meditating in his trailer when Eric finds him. It’s not weird. Well, it’s kinda weird. But Misha does a lot of weird shit. Meditating is very low on the Weird Shit Misha Does scale.
He explains his mission to Misha.
“Hmm,” says Misha, unfolding himself from lotus position. “Your heart is sound, Grand Master Kripke. But you need a plan.”
“That’s why I came to you,” says Eric. He knows it’s dangerous. Misha interacts with the fans more than anyone else involved with the show, and there’s no telling if his plan will involve his minion army. Eric really doesn’t want people knowing the Js have gone from banging each other in internet fiction to banging each other in real life.
“But you need to be discrete,” he adds. So Misha knows that he, you know, has to be really fucking discrete and not twitter this while he’s also twittering about the velociraptor he stole from Area 51.
Then again, if Misha did twitter that the J’s were really a couple, it might convince people that they weren’t, considering the LSD-addled nature of Misha’s tweets.
Reverse psychology. Or something like that. Whatever, it would be fucking with the fans’ minds. And there’s little Eric likes more than mindfucking the fans. Doublestuffed oreos, he likes better. Maybe.
So he’s not kind and magnanimous all the time. He’s more like the Old Testament God. All rainbows and doves one minute, then BAM! all the firstborn sons are dead the next. Jesus Christ, but God’s kind of a dickass.
“Hmmmmm,” says Misha again, interrupting Eric’s thoughts. His eyes glow very briefly and very brightly, this intense vibrant blue color. It’s really pretty frickin’ awesome. Eric wonders if he could convince Misha to do that with Castiel. Secretly, Eric thinks Misha might be an escaped government robot. You know, like a mandroid.
“Give me two days and three boxes of cake mix,” instructs Misha. He thinks for a moment. “I’ll also require a feather duster, sparkly gel pens, and complete control over the PAs.”
“Done,” says Eric. He's not really sure if he can swing the PA thing. He'll have to talk to some people. “And let me know if you need anything else.”
He holds out his hand. Misha takes it. He has a firm, commanding grip. The kind of grip that says, “I am an angel of the Lord and I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” Eric appreciates that in a grip.
They shake. It’s a gentleman’s handshake, and when they’re done, Eric says, “Give me two hours, and I promise you’ll have everything you need.”
Misha nods, and he and Eric stare at each other. It's an affirming moment. Two friends and allies recognizing each other as they prepare for the field of battle.
And then Eric leaves to track down some cake mix.
He feels buoyed up. He knows what he’s doing will improve his karmic balance and bring a little more joy and love into the world. Deep down, he's really just a guy who wants to tell a story about how love and family can save the world. He's a cuddly guy, he swears. All suicidal teddy bears and candy hearts.
Plus, he thinks gleefully, fandom’s gonna fucking explode.
AN: Definition of "kripked" lifted from the supernatural fan wiki. The line about Misha’s wife stems from the fact that she apparently wrote a book about threesomes (can’t find relevant link at the moment.) Also, I have no idea how an episode of Supernatural is put together, other than it's filmed in Vancouver and written in Los Angeles (I think). Obviously my ignorance shows. I also did no research on Kripke beforehand, because that would have made me feel icky and creepy. Originally, I was going to write out how Kripke and Misha actually got the Js together, but realized I couldn’t come up with a suitably hilarious plan and that 1000+ words spent inside Kripke’s head was long enough. I had a really hard time writing “Eric” all through the fic instead of “Kripke.”
I apologize for nothing.
Feedback is good karma. Thanks for reading. Also (and finally) I'm new here, so if you'd like to friend me, that would be a Gaiman-writing-an-episode-of-Supernatural level of awesome.